Knight of Nothing
by a porcelain scar
Summary: my babble on unrequited love/obsession. draco/harry. real angsty, i suppose.


  


**Title**: The Knight of Nothing   
**Rating**: PG13   
**Warnings**: Angst, based off a poem and as always... weird. Draco kills a girl.   
**Summary**: Once upon a time, there was a heartless boy who never learned to love. On one faithful day, the boy loses all hope forever.   
Author's Notes: Worthless babble that I just felt like writing because of the poem. The title... I dunno, I just couldn't seem to think of one. Anyway, enjoy.

  
  


_*Upon the kingdom of wizardry*  
*in the days of old*  
*there was a lovely prince*  
*whose hair did shine like gold*_

  


A young boy clad in rich, elegant black robes walked down a dark, lonely hall. His hands were wrapped around himself, wisps of his lovely pale golden hair falling onto his sullen ivory visage. His stormy eyes flickered with the feeling of nothingness as he continued to walk with silent steps, ignoring the staring eyes of the servants around him.

  


_*And though his face was pure*   
*the color of virgin snow*   
*his heart was black and heavy*   
*no love to make it grow*_

  


"Kill her, Draco." A sharp, stabbing voice commanded the young prince. The boy, Draco, looked down at a writhing girl, raw and bloody from the flagellation Lucius Malfoy had just granted her. A fleeting frown crossed the boy's numb expression as he lifted up his arm with swan-like movements, pointed his wand at the girl, and whispered, "Avada Kedavra."

  


_*He strolled outside the palace*   
*onto the kingdom's plain*  
*taking refuge under storm clouds*  
*and crying in the rain*_

  


Draco sauntered around the manor, finding nothingness in the nothing that surrounded him. He grew tired and decided to walk outside the dreary manor.

Outside, he sauntered onto the barren land that engulfed the manor's surroundings. To the middle he made his way, feeling the soft thundering of storm clouds above him. The boy dropped to his knees under the storm and onto the vacant plan, only able to feel anger at the fact that he was unfeeling; cold and hollow as the manor and everything around it. Draco felt nothing. He couldn't even feel the pouring rain, nor the tears that began to stain the emotionless perfection of his face.

  


_*In the distance his ears beheld*  
*a sound not hard to read*  
*It was the clomping of hooves*  
*under a galloping steed*_

  


He couldn't see anymore, not through all the tears the blurred his vision. His hands and body were paralyzed as the rain continued to fall and had begun to pool around him.

A vibrant ringing of a voice seemed to call out to him from afar. He brought his head up to come face to face with hypnotic green eyes that stared back at him with a twinkle of an emotion he had never seen before. He felt a warmth from the light that came from the eyes. Soon, he felt himself being gathered to the arms of the owner of the eyes. The sweet voice of the figure whispered something into his ears.

"I love you, Draco."

A smile almost formed on the cruel boy's lips, but reality soon brought him back to his lonely world of pain, emptiness and malice. He was alone again, and the figure felt like nothing but a mere faraway dream, like a ghost that came to taunt him with false words of the lie called love.

  


_*Through fog and rain his eyes*  
*could still so clearly see*  
*"A knight, a knight!" he cried*  
*"and he's come to rescue me!"*_

  


Draco wandered into a store, led by his father. A woman tapped his shoulder and flashed him an crooked, jolly smile. His father gazed down at him, identical grey eyes burning into another.

"Let her take your measurements, Draco." He dictated, harshly shoving him into the waiting hands of the mirthful woman. Draco sneered behind his father's back, who was off talking to another "acquaintance" of his.

Draco squirmed under the woman's touch, but stopped as soon as his eyes landed directly on a boy whose hair was a wild mess of black, whose brilliant emerald eyes were hidden behind a pair of black-rimmed glasses, and whose olive painted complexion held a lightning scar. A boy, who was nonetheless "The Boy Who Lived" -Harry Potter.

Something then and there made Draco's heart swell and his stomach flutter. He saw somewhere in those eyes a chance to feel; a chance to love. Seeing him was like a distant dream of paradise he couldn't remember.

  


_*He moved so swift and quick*  
*upon his mighty beast*  
*"A brave and strong soul!" he moaned*  
*"And a gentlemen none the least."*_

  


Draco watched the boy meticulously, but with admiration. He could have done it for hours, if the boy had stayed there forever. But his adoring gazes were stopped by a piercing glare from the man whose face had grown dark. From that, the boy's former self returned, the hallucination Harry Potter brought to him slowly fading away. But still, from time to time when Lucius wasn't bombarding him with evil glimpses, Draco watched at the coy gentleness of The Boy Who Lived to those who approached him.

_Such a naive innocent boy_, Draco thought.

  


_*With every clomp and every breath*  
*the night began to near*  
*He opened wide his arms*  
*He knew there was nothing to fear*_

  


Draco pretended not to see as Harry neared him. The vision he had so long ago came back to haunt his mind. He smiled, feeling the arms of the ghost again. He opened his arms wide, hoping that the arms weren't a dream and would stay, but instead were replaced with the measuring hands of the merry lady. He sneered at the mirror and the lady, then looked at Harry Potter talking to the man.

"So, you're the famous Harry Potter, are you?"

  


_*He knew his arms would lift him up*  
*up toward the sky*  
*but when he opened his eyes*  
*the knight had passed him by*_

  


Draco didn't seem to be paying any attention to the two bulky boys beside him. The brawny, brainless duo couldn't even notice that the pale boy wasn't listening, nor could they understand what it really was they were talking about. Draco's mind was just wandering, but always coming back to the same thought -Harry Potter.

He barely even noticed those green eyes land on him in the crowded train, but the force was enough to make him turn. He saw beside Harry, that irritable red-head Ron Weasley.

The lost feeling disappeared and was quickly replaced by anger. He approached the two with a miserable smile, followed by his two muscle-bound idiot companions.

He found that nothing the least bit inviting escaped his mouth as he talked once again to the boy that resembled the wonderous angel in his vision. He wanted so much to just pull the boy into his arms and tell him that he loved him. But he couldn't. Instead, "I can help you figure out who the right sort and wrong sort are in this school, Potter." With a brief glare of jealousy passed to Ron.

He held out his hand for Harry to shake, but Harry didn't take it.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks." Said his angel coolly.

Draco's hollow heart sudden felt even emptier. It seemed shattered. It felt so broken, that he couldn't even find the sense to fit the pieces together.

  


_*Now somewhere there is a field*  
*where the rain will never fall*  
*and a prince with hair of gold*  
*sits there crying for it all*  
*He lost his knight and lost his heart*  
*and watched them slowly die*  
*all because of that fateful day*  
*that the knight just passed him by*_

  


Draco watched silently out the window, not a single emotion ever gracing his sullen features. His body moved not a single inch and his eyes never left the endless field of nothing.

_Nothing_, he thought, propping himself on the thin windowsill. _I feel nothing._

The rain began to pour, just like that day when he found a heart. The rain began to unleash itself on him, tearing at his body with its pure, cruel droplets. It seemed it ripple on the boy's pale face, along with deadened tears that, inside, would never cease.

  
-finis- 


End file.
